"My friend, accomplish the Delian mysteries with which you are
familiar. We must purify the Temple of Apollo. He will return to his
dwelling, and once we have taken away the stone which seals the
spring, the oracle will speak again."
The arch-priest terminated the interview with a deep bow and the same
obsequious manner, in which an invincible tenacity could be felt--
"Let your will be done, Cæsar. We are the children, you are the
father; but there is no power above the power of God."
"Oh, you hypocrites, I know your obedience and your humility! Your
humility is the serpent's fang! Why not struggle against me at least
like men?"
Julian turned round to depart, when a little old man and woman issued
from the crowd and prostrated themselves at his feet. They were poorly
but cleanly dressed, and bore a surprising resemblance to each other,
reminding him of Philemon and Baucis.
"Protect us, just Cæsar," whispered the old man. "We have a little
house near Antioch at the foot of the Stavrinus. We've lived there
twenty years, and now the town-senators, the decurions, are come...."
The old man clasped his hands despairingly, and the old woman,
imitating him, did the same.
"The decurions come and say, 'This house does not belong to
you!'--'What--the Lord be with you--we've been here twenty
years!'--'Yes; but you had no right. The land belongs to the temple of
the god Æsculapius, and your house is built with the temple-stones. It
must return to Æsculapius.' What does this mean?... Have mercy,
all-powerful Augustus!"
The two old people, with their clear and childlike faces, were
kneeling before him, and weeping, kissed his feet.
Julian perceived an amber cross on the woman's neck.
"Are you Christians?" he asked, his brow growing sombre.
"Yes."
"I should like to grant your prayer ... but how is it to be done? The
land belongs to the god.... Nevertheless, your property shall be paid
for."
"No, no," cried out the old people, "we're rooted there by all our
habits. We don't ask for money. But there everything is ours; we know
every blade of grass...."
"There everything is ours," repeated the old woman like an echo. "The
vine, the chickens, the cow, the olives, the pigs--everything is ours.
And there's the step too, on which in the evening we have warmed our
old bones in the sun, side by side, for these twenty years."